This is the final chapter of a story entitled The Other One. To start at the beginning, click here. Thank you so very much for reading.
“You’re late! ;)”
There wasn’t a chance I would ever understand why Jenn insisted on ending every text message with some sort of smiley face. There also wasn’t a chance she would ever stop doing it, so I guess I just had to live with it. Plus, I wasn’t late. I had just pulled up to her place to pick her up. We weren’t late quite yet, but the rest of my family had already gathered at my parent’s house so we were certainly holding things up.
Jenn got in the car and greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. As she held my hand, the rock on her ring finger glistened in the sunlight. It would, of course, be a sunny and warm Christmas here in Manchester, Mississippi. I’m not sure we were capable of having any other kind of weather. Read More…
This is chapter FOURTEEN of a story entitled The Other One. It’s getting close to the end. To start at the beginning, click here.
“Well, here we are.”
Jenn and I stood in front of a tombstone that seemed all too unfamiliar to me. I don’t think she had ever actually known Ethan McLaurin, but she certainly knew who he was. I figured this would be the closest she would get to meeting him, and I figured I owed him another visit before I flew back to New York.
My bags were packed. I had already been to see Alex and Rachel and little Bryce, who has spent a great deal of time since his surgery sleeping. Recovery would take time, but all signs pointed to him living a life with very little limitations. I said a few words to Alex, we had a few laughs, and then I said my goodbyes. Jenn drove me here to the cemetary, and after this I would grab my stuff, say goodbye to my parents and Ashley, and she would drop me off at the airport.
“So why did you feel like you had to come back?”
I pondered her question just a bit before answering. “You know, I guess because his death was such a dividing point for me. I had a life that ended seven years ago at this very spot. I guess I had to stand here again when I still had the opportunity. Standing here seven years ago prompted this stage of my life. Maybe standing here again will prompt the next.” Read More…
This is chapter thirteen of a story entitled The Other One. It’s getting close to the end. To start at the beginning, click here.
For once this Christmas season, we had a day of complete relaxation. A day of nothing to do and no places to be. Bryce was healthy and recovering and would probably be discharged earlier than planned. I guess he had much of a fighting spirit than we thought. Alex and Rachel were watching him closely, without worry, and the rest of us were able to just spend a lazy day at home.
Everyone except for my mother, though, who decided that our Christmas family dinner would have to happen tonight. She had practically barricaded the kitchen, making sure she could work on her masterpieces without disturbance. It wasn’t so much that we didn’t want to help her, but rather that we had all realized we were useless in the kitchen. We were a much bigger help to her if we stayed far, far away.
So for once, we were able to breathe easily. Ashley and I were able to watch the holiday specials we had missed because of the chaos that hit us so quickly. I was able to give Dad a hand with a couple of simple chores that didn’t require assistance so much as it required an extra pair of hands for him to boss around. Jenn was even able to stop by for a little bit to visit, which of course promptly some very awkward prodding from Mom and Ashley afterwards.
Everything was wonderful. Everything felt natural. The only problem is that it was going to suddenly be difficult to board that airplane tomorrow. Read More…
This is chapter twelve (allegedly) of a story entitled The Other One. To start at the beginning, click here.
I was awake and ready to face the day at a respectable hour, but less out of choice and more out of solidarity. The entire family was at the hospital early, supporting Alex and Rachel as Bryce went into surgery. Something wasn’t working correctly in his tiny heart, and if it wasn’t fixed immediately, there was a slim chance he would survive to see his first birthday.
The atmosphere sat heavily in the waiting room, which was surely living up to its name today. About a half hour after surgery started, I was sent on an all important quest for doughnuts for the family. We all hoped that something along those lines would be a bit of a pick-me-up, and the sugar rush would also help our energy level. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, or maybe it was just stupid, but at this point, probably anything at all would ease the tension.
I drove in silence. It wasn’t that I wanted to do so, really. Just that I couldn’t think of any music I would want to listen to in a situation such as this. Nothing seemed to fit the overall mood, and since the drive to the doughnut shop wasn’t long, I certainly wasn’t in the mood to search for the right soundtrack. Read More…
This is chapter eleven (or so I’ve been told) of a story entitled The Other One. To start at the beginning, click here.
No matter how much time is spent sleeping on a couch, it’s still sleeping on a couch. It’s never actually restful, and even when it feels great at the time, when you get up you feel like you’ve missed the entire night and you’re bitter at the world for making you feel this way.
At least, that’s how I was beginning to feel on this particular day after waking up on Alex’s couch. I had slept well and peacefully for the most part, yet the actual waking up process was painful. I was suddenly longing for a nap in an actual bed, though I hadn’t been awake for more than five minutes. I figured that wasn’t a good sign for the rest of the day.
I had wandered over to Alex’s house the previous evening at Jenn’s encouragement, and as it turns out, it was great for both of us. It was a temporary break from the chaos around us, and I think we somehow both needed it.
We watched stupid movies and played stupid old video games and for a brief moment, had more of a teenage brother relationship than we ever had when we were actually teenage brothers. It helped me out tremendously because for a little while, I felt totally at home and at peace. I was able to enjoy a stupid evening of doing nothing with my brother, and that’s all the evening needed to be. I didn’t want to have to strain to think of things to say or do, I just had to sit down and hang out.
I didn’t have to think hard about what to say. I didn’t have to be a shoulder to cry on. I just had to be an opponent in a video game, nothing more. That was something I was sure I could handle. Read More…
This is chapter ten of a story entitled The Other One. Wow, ten chapters? Really? That can’t be right. Anyways, to start at the beginning, click here.
Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.
We had exchanged gifts, but it was more of a formality than anything else. The normal giddiness of ripping off the colorful paper was noticeably absent. It felt as though it was supposed to be a distraction from the tension of knowing a family member was hospitalized, but the presents were failing miserably at their purpose. We went through the motions, said thanks, and moved on as if it had to be finished before we could do anything else with our lives.
There was still no word on Bryce. He had become stable, had some trouble, then stabilized again. As far as we could tell, he wasn’t in severe trouble, but doctors had to pay close attention to him and still couldn’t tell what the problem was.
We could spend time in the waiting room. We could bring food and drink to Alex and Rachel. We could bring them changes of clothes. We could do all of these little things, but best we could tell, all we could really do was wait.
I chose to wait at my parents house, on the couch, isolated. I felt frozen, honestly. I had no idea what good my presence would be. I had some words I could share with Alex if he needed them, but really, those words only felt appropriate if things took a major turn for the worst. All I really knew was sorrow, I guess, and the waiting period was something I never could understand.
So this couch, by myself? That’s where I belonged. A place I could understand. Read More…